above him and catch a glimpse of the bay and a glint of the Contra
Costa shore. He was not in the least surprised at what had
happened, and made up his mind that it would be a good idea to lie
down in the boat and go to sleep.

Suddenly--but how long after his advent into the boat he could not
tell--his wits began to return and settle themselves, like wild
birds flocking again after a scare. Swiftly he took in the scene.
The blue waters of the bay around him, the deck of a schooner on
which he stood, the Whitehall boat alongside, and an enormous man
with a face like a setting moon wrangling with his friend in the
sweater--no longer iridescent.

"What do you call it?" shouted the red man. "I want able seamen--
I don't figger on working this boat with dancing masters, do I? We
ain't exactly doing quadrilles on my quarterdeck. If we don't
look out we'll step on this thing and break it. It ain't ought to
be let around loose without its ma."

"Rot that," vociferated the brown sweater. "I tell you he's one
of the best sailor men on the front. If he ain't we'll forfeit
the money. Come on, Captain Kitchell, we made show enough gettin'
away as it was, and this daytime business ain't our line. D'you
sign or not? Here's the advance note. I got to duck my nut or
I'll have the patrol boat after me."

"I'll sign this once," growled the other, scrawling his name on
the note; "but if this swab ain't up to sample, he'll come back by
freight, an' I'll drop in on mee dear friend Jim when we come back
and give him a reel nice time, an' you can lay to that, Billy